February 16th, 2010
King's Cross Station, London
Sezja gingerly smoothed out the paper that she held in her gloved hand, her eyes going over it for the millionth time. It was half in English and half in Russian, hurried and desperate. Ink blots abounded. My sister... do not risk it... the attacks are targeting... qualifications make no difference... no safety in England... And no signature at the bottom. No clipped, professional little Adaline King with a flourish on the final 'G'. No time, perhaps? In the months of peace that marked the end of 2009, Sezja had dared to hope that Ada might resurface, or at least some promising rumour of her whereabouts. Perhaps she was one of the many in hiding. Feeling a tear make it's way down her cheek, she hastily brushed it away to halt it's progress onto the precious, final missive from her friend. If she was not in hiding, than she was a slave, a prisoner or dead. Let her be hidden. Let her be safe.
Sezja thought back to two weeks prior, when she had caught a thief and in the process gained some purpose: The Order of the Pheonix; S.A.V.I.O.R. The wand shop had been a diversion at first, a reason to keep going among the death of all that she held dear. She felt terribly alone. Her entire family was gone now and she was in a strange country with no friends, a half-blood where anything less was without rights. Now, in addition, she was part of an organisation whose members were prime for execution if caught by the government. Was she cut out for this? Did she have a choice? She needed a miracle.